100 things about me: part i of iv
1. I was born on Tuesday, August 9, 1977, in Little Rock, Arkansas, to the best parents in the entire world, Dennis Charles and Marilyn Elizabeth.2. When I was about to be three years of age, my family [Dad, Mom (Michelle didn’t come), Kelly, me, and Sarah] moved to Australia. On the way, I had my 3rd birthday party in Hawaii.
3. I’m not sure how Boogey came to be, but throughout my childhood, I had an imaginary ENEMY, not friend, named Boogey. He was the scapegoat for everything that went wrong, which is normal, but I was afraid of him, too. That, I do not believe, is normal. Boogey supposedly was “left behind” when my family and I went on a certain trip somewhere…but then once when I was watching the tellie (back at home), I screamed out bloody murder—my mom came running to see what was wrong. I was standing in front of the t.v. screen, pointing at it. My mom said that I looked as white as a ghost as I screamed, “There’s Boogey!” (Gosh, this gives me chills even now.) Regardless, when we moved back to America almost six years later, Boogey was out of the picture. ha ha (pun intended—and I just thought of that!)
4. Our family was blessed in 1981 with the birth of my youngest sister, Rachel Susanna. As previously mentioned in #2, I was sandwiched between Kelly Elizabeth and Sarah Marie. Rachel was born two days short of being exactly four years younger than me; Sarah, on the other hand, is only 17 months younger. Kelly, born in ’68, is nine years older than me. My oldest sister, [Karen] Michelle was born in ’65. You may wonder what my parents were doing, but the reason for the gap between me and Kelly is because…
5. My parents were both married before they married each other. My dad and his first wife had Michelle, and my mom and her first husband (whose name, no kidding, is “Buff,” as in short for Buffalo) had Kelly. Then, they got married and had me, Sarah and Rachel. (So Michelle and Kelly are step-sisters, but “half” sisters to me, S and R.) The seven of us never really lived together at once, except for short periods of time in Australia when Michelle would come to visit/live.
6. Child evangelism is huge in Australia. So when I, as a SIX YEAR OLD CHILD, went to a two-week long camp by myself with a lady from my church who was helping with the camp, no one thought anything of it. (This, I do admit, is nothing compared to an incredible set of twins I know who woke themselves up every morning beginning at age FOUR and got ready—by themselves—for school, including packing their own lunches.) I have very clear pictures and memories in my head of those two weeks: I remember taking showers in a port-o-shower (like a port-o-potty), seeing a garden (still scary) snake in a tree right next to the place where some of the older girls slept—which was UNDER THE HOUSE, receiving probably the worst sunburn of my life and laying in agony on the top bunk inside the house, making the Geppetto and Pinocchio pillowcase (that I still have & use) and other crafts, crying tears of sadness and joy when my parents came to visit—the primary reason for their visit being to bring me my favourite thing (which I had accidentally left at home)—the homemade Strawberry Shortcake doll that Kellie had made me one year…I really could go on and on. To this day, I know the order of the books of the Bible because of the song I learned at that camp. And to this day, I desire and aim to follow the Lord Jesus because of my initial decision to do so on one special night during camp. I remember weeping, even as a young child, about my sin and the realization of my being separated from God because of it. I am grateful, for I do believe that…
7. God gave me a very tender heart. I am an extremely sensitive person, and although this is sometimes to my disadvantage (wearing my heart on the sleeves and such), often times I am able to deeply relate with others in their times of sorrow and pain.
8. Backing up a few years, right after we had moved to Australia, my great-grandmother Dear Dear died (in the United States). At the time, I had no way of knowing this, as I was only three years old and was sound asleep when my Uncle Doug called my parents in the middle of the night to tell them. The next day, my mom and I were looking at a photo album, and when I came upon a picture of Dear Dear (whom actually inadvertently terrified me), I said, “Dear Dear’s in heaven, isn’t she, mommy?” My parents and I are still baffled by this. Although I haven’t experienced too much of it in the past few years, there have been a good many handful of experiences where I knew something I “shouldn’t have,” or I knew that something was about to happen. Eerie. Strange. Wonderful.
9. Why was I afraid of my great-grandmother, you ask? Here is one I am embarrassed to admit, but I’ll just say it: I am afraid of Indians. Plain and simple. I can’t explain it. I thought perhaps my fear was just a silly childhood thing, but when I went to Montana with the youth group in high school, we saw “real” Indians dancing, etc., and I had to leave the presentation. I was SHAKING with fear.
10. My favourite number is 6. I remember playing in the street one day with my friend Fiona Cross (I love the name Fiona), and I decided right then that 6 was my favourite number—and it has been ever since. (And yes, I was six years old at the time.)
11. Along with her family, Tanya, my best friend in Australia, lived across the street from us. She has two younger brothers who were best friends with Sarah and Rachel; everything worked out perfectly, really, because Andrew and Sarah were the same age, and Leigh and Rachel were, too. We spent countless days together, sometimes pretending to be the Boxcar children, sometimes enjoying ice cream treats that we had gotten from Mr. Whippie (whose ice cream truck jingle was none other than Greensleeves)…I cherish my childhood spent in Western Australia, and my life is so much richer because of it. Tanya played a huge role in this, and although I haven’t been very good about it lately, she and I are still in touch through e-mail.
12. Once when I was playing at Martine Stewart’s house, I couldn’t make it to the toilet in time. In Australia, if you have an indoor toilet, it will be in a small room (with just the toilet) behind a closed door with very little floor space. Well, I peed all over that floor. I remember that Martine’s older sister had to help clean it up—how embarrassing. I won’t go into details, but apparently my bladder control problem wasn’t solely reserved for my childhood, either—just ask Jennie, Julie, Wendy or Sarah some time about my little episode with asking Sarah to “just pray” and then screaming something about a racehorse…I’m not saying another word about it.
13. I have loved boys all my life. The first victim was Marcus Lovegrove, and no, I am not kidding about the name. For my 8th birthday (my last one in Australia), my parents gave me a glorious party at the skating rink. (My birthday cake was a spider—yikes!) Among other friends in attendance was Marcus, and he gave me a Cabbage Patch purse/bag. Even though he thrust it towards me and said something like, “Here, my mum made me give this to you,” I ADORED that thing. I adored him. Several years ago, my family went to Australia for a visit, and I found out that Marcus had moved in next door to some family friends of ours. He had become a surfer.
14. I’ve always had a thing for numbers. I can usually remember numbers, nay most things, almost photographically. I don’t mean this to sound at all arrogant; after all, who decides that this type of thing is good? Sometimes, I believe the whole thing’s a curse and pretty related to this.
15. I remember being at the airport when we had to move back to America. My older sister Kelly (almost 17 years old) had just realized months earlier that she and her best friend, Todd, were really more than best friends. They were both crying their eyes out, and they yelled things to each other like, “Wait for me!” and “I’ll write you every day!” To my parents’ surprise, Todd came over a few years later (after we were living in Pennsylvania), married Kelly, and took her back to Australia. They had three beautiful children whom I love with all my heart and very much wish I had the chance to know. (I’ve only SEEN my dear nephews and niece a total of three times.) I truly believe Todd and Kelly’s story intensified my belief in love and the notion that “fairy tales really do come true.” Sadly, they separated and eventually divorced after being married for only 11 years.
16. Back to numbers, I remember being only one of seven Caucasian children in my (second) third grade class with Mrs. Ross in Little Rock, Arkansas. (Because children in Australia typically go to school at an earlier age and are therefore “ahead” of N. American children, I actually should have been put into the fourth grade when we moved back to the States. Because school was already in session and for other reasons I don’t even know, my sister and I had to repeat part of a grade we had already completed. I still somehow ended up being one of the youngest in my graduating class.) I had never been around any African Americans, but you better believe that I ate up every minute of play time (in and out of the classroom) with my new friends. Actually, up until that year, the only differently-coloured persons that I had ever encountered were Aborigines, and that was only when they came for an assembly at school. (There were not any in my neighborhood or school or anything—they were solely in the outback.) All this to say, different races have always fascinated me and/or greatly affected me in one way or another. (See #9)
17. I tend to focus on details and unnecessarily LENGTHEN things…good grief—just look at this “list.” It’s already turned into a novella. From now on, I’ll do my best to shorten this and not worry so much about the order of things.
18. Music infiltrates my every day and almost my every thought. If I could, I believe I would communicate to everyone and everything in song. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but music is really, really important to me. I’m grateful for ungraceful fingers with which to poke out tunes on a piano or to clumsily strum my guitar. I am so thankful for ears to hear and a voice to sing, which leads me to say that…
19. Singing is my favourite thing to do.
20. I cannot believe I’m sharing this—it’s quite personal—but I was an extremely “early bloomer.” The red dot (yes, that’s what I call it) came for me at AGE NINE. I was the tallest person in my fourth grade class, but now I am just plain average (if not short), measuring in at only 5’ 4 ¼”. I will never forget that on the eve of that dreaded day so long ago, as my family and I were finishing dinner, my sisters said, “Rebekah, go swimming with us! Come on, come on!” (We lived next door to the neighborhood pool.) Before I could answer, my dear Dad—who was usually so sensitive—said to my sisters (5 and 7 years old), “Girls, Rebekah can’t go swimming with you tonight; she became a woman today.” NO, I’M NOT KIDDING.
21. I love to do voices. When my sisters and I were growing up, we would, like most children, play with our stuffed animals who had names and voices. Sarah had a cute little critter named “Tidlings,” Rachel went through different stuffed animals like “Piggy Fluff” and tons of assorted lambs, I had “Floppy” among others…but then there was always “Chunker.” We did voices for our stuffed animals and played games and such, but, you see, there was never a stuffed animal for Chunker. There was just the voice. (That I created and would do.) I realize how strange this sounds, and that’s because it is strange. But allow me to continue…I did the Chunker voice well, really throughout high school, even. (But only around family and very close friends—just for fun! No, I don’t have multiple personality disorder.) Then, one destined day in college, I accidentally let the Chunker voice “slip” to Jennie and Julie. There was no turning back. Julie was really intrigued by the voice, and one day she excitedly approached me and said, “Chunker isn’t a stuffed animal at all! Chunker is a little boy. He has a bowl haircut and always has a million things in his pocket and a messy face.” Anyway, she continued to describe what “Chunker” looks like, and so thus Chunker was (re-)born. Here’s the best way I know how to describe Chunker’s voice and who he is: take 1 cup of a cute messy boy (about 5 or 6 years old), add two heaping tablespoons of Shirley Temple, swirl in the inability to sound sad, add an endless desire for snicker doodles, his mother, and ice cream, and mix until you’re so happy you feel you’ll burst. That’s Chunker. (No, I really don’t have multiple personality disorder!!) I kind of hope that someday Chunker will be a cartoon, and I can do the voice.
22. The other voice I love to do is that of Marimelle. Once upon a time there were two crazy girls named Bonnie and Susan who lived in the dorm room next to me and my sister. Bonnie and her sister Holly had, for years, periodically spoken to each other in almost scary sounding voices—they carried on conversations emulating the voices of older women who had smoked their entire lives. The voices, of course, were accompanied by fully developed characters with pasts and mouths that would shame Billy the Kid. Needless to say, after we heard Bonnie teaching Susan the tricks of the trade and they started being “Bea” and “Hank’s ex-wife,” Sarah and I were right behind them. Marimelle and Marlene were inseparable; one night we made ourselves hoarse for talking well into the wee hours of the morning. Just in case you need to know, you can achieve this type of voice by sucking in air as you talk and pretty much talking out of your throat. (No doubt it’s murder on the vocal chords, so I try not to indulge too often.)
23. When I need my back scratched in really hard to reach places (and if my dear husband is not around), I use scissors to relieve the itch. I just make sure to keep them closed so as not to cut an accidental hole in my shirt or anything. Is this weird? Does anyone else do this?
24. I love giraffes.
25. Chocolate means a lot to me. Have you ever read The Chocolate Touch by Patricia Catling? Although what little John Midas received was actually a curse, sometimes I wish I could have the chocolate touch. (I would ask that the people I touch, though, not turn into chocolate. That’s just a little horrible.)
all for now @
10:56 AM
2 comment(s):
These were so fun to read! I feel like I know you a lot better. =)
p.s. Take it from a "late" bloomer (as in, age 14 in HIGH SCHOOL) that being "early" was probably less embarrassing in the end...!
By
Rachel, at
7:31 AM
Dearest Rebstar: in regards to #25, I thought you might enjoy this news story... Chocolate is health food! Yeah!
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=594&e=1&u=/nm/20050322/hl_nm/chocolate_dark_dc
By
Rachel, at
6:20 AM
Post a comment
<< Home